His Temporary Wife

by Leslie P. García

  “He’s had too much,” Tom muttered, keeping his voice low. “But we have orders from Tía that he’s to get what he wants on her tab.”

  “And this from the woman who needed me to bail her out financially,” Esme noted, pain stabbing her again at the thought of her aunt.

  Esme walked over and gasped in shock when he turned around. He’d been in a fight and she’d bet he’d lost. Both eyes were swollen, the right eye looking much worse than the left, and his lips were swollen and cut.

  “What the hell did you do now?” she demanded.

  “How do you know it wasn’t your husband? He threatened me, did’ja know?” He squinted at her. “No, don’t go.” His words were hard to understand, partly because of his injuries, and partly because of the almost empty pitcher of beer on his table.

  “Sit down.” He grinned lewdly and waggled his eyebrows. “If you can.”

  “What did you want?” she demanded, not sitting.

  He extracted a piece of paper from his pocket with clumsy fingers and waved at the bench again. “Gotta sit,” he insisted. “We got a lot to talk about, baby sister.”

  Reluctantly, she slid in, and he handed her the paper. She looked at it. Bounty’s name and a scrawled phone number. She positioned her fingers to rip it in half, but with surprising speed, Beto recovered it.

  “You need to call him. It’s about the kid.”

  “Justin?” Alarm gripped her. “What about Justin?”

  Beto shrugged. “Why should I give a damn about the brat? I don’t know nothing. I can’t find a job anywhere. I need a month’s rent.”

  With unsteady fingers she wrote a check and handed it to him. He handed her the paper again. “He’ll only talk to you. He got a deal in Nashville, so he’s leavin’ again. He don’t know whether or not he’s ready to fight for Justin. He wants you to call him, so you can talk to Rafa. He thinks maybe you all can work it out and not hurt the kid. I told him you were reasonable. Practical.” He snorted, filling the air between them with the fumes of alcohol and stale tobacco. “I also told him you are hot. And always have been. If you know what I mean.” He laughed lewdly. “He said he’d figgered that out by himself. Play your cards right, Esme, and you could get the best of both worlds. If you know what I’m saying.”

  Esme refused to recoil from his vile innuendos, concentrating instead on Justin. On helping Rafael keep his nephew forever, even—she swallowed hard—even when she left Witches Haven. She forced herself to find that voice of reason that Beto had mentioned. “Nobody even knows if he’s Justin’s father. He doesn’t have a right—”

  Beto reached for the pitcher and held it out. “Want a little?” When she shook her head, he chugged from the pitcher, beer running out of his misshapen mouth. “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t much care, one way or the other. Just doing a favor.”

  She looked at the paper and put it in her wallet. She’d tell Rafael. He could decide whether or not to talk to Doug. Then she stood to go.

  “I thought you might have changed,” she told Beto. “I can’t believe I’m letting you blackmail me. You, my own brother.”

  Beto made a big show of looking from side to side before shrugging and crossing his arms over his chest. “Ain’t no brother of yours here, honey. For you to be my sister, you’d have to be the daughter of Adriana Martinez Salinas and Ernesto Salinas.”

  She couldn’t speak, clutched at what he was saying without quite grasping it.

  “Oh, and sweetie, that little lie you tell?” His voice dropped as he spoke, and the hair on her arms stood up. “Wouldn’t have been a big deal if I got in your pants like all those other kids did. No big deal, doing it with a cousin.”

  She jerked her head, trying to shake it, to deny the filth and anger of the garbage he was hurling at her. But deep inside, something already screamed. “Why are we cousins?”

  “Because Tina’s your mother. Why do you think Mom and Dad hated you always being there, taking everything from them and me? They adopted you out of pity, because Tina didn’t want you. And you know what? She don’t even know who your dad is. Or care neither.”

  The words hammered into her. She took a few steps towards the door and the bright sunshine outside. Somewhere between his table and the door, blackness claimed her.

  • • •

  Somewhere in the darkness she heard jumbled voices, voices she didn’t know. She turned her head, trying to escape the light trying to call her back. Over the nose and pain, she suddenly heard Rafael’s voice.

  “Esmeralda? Esme!” The panic in his voice registered, and she managed to open her eyes, but the pain was still there, throbbing through her head.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “You fainted. Why? Angel saw you talking to your brother. She said he’d been hurt—was he that bad? Do you need us to find him and take him to the hospital? Tom said he left right after you fell. We don’t know what happened.”

  As warmth enveloped her, she realized that she was cradled in Rafael’s arms. He was sitting on the floor, and Angel and Tom were standing near her. Behind them she could see other denim-clad legs, so clearly they were still in the bar. With that realization, memory of the confrontation with Beto flooded back, and she pushed against Rafael’s restraining arms.

  “Let me up,” she demanded. “I have to … Rafael, let me up.”

  Somehow he got his feet under him and managed to lift her up as he stood, not putting her down in spite of her struggles.

  “We’re going into San Antonio for X-rays.”

  “No! I have to go. Tía’s …”

  “She’s here,” Angel soothed. “Upstairs, in her office. She came a few minutes ago, but I guess she saw that a crowd of us was already here.”

  Rafael set her down, but didn’t release her completely. “Calm down,” he ordered. “You’re not going upstairs until we know you’re all right and we’re sure that your aunt won’t make matters worse.”

  “There isn’t any way anything could be worse,” Esmeralda said, her voice sounding childlike to her own ears. She stiffened her body and inched away from Rafael. “I’ll be back.” They were watching her with such worry that she searched briefly for words to make them feel better, but couldn’t think of any. So she just walked away to the stairwell at the back of the club.

  Tina was sitting at her desk making out a deposit slip when Esmeralda shoved the door open. She jerked, and muttered something as a bill floated to the floor, then pushed everything to one side.

  “I thought I locked the door. This is my private office.” Then she frowned and waved at the chair in front of her desk. “Sit down before you faint again.” She chuckled. “Everyone down there probably thinks you’re already pregnant. What a hoot that is, right?”

  Esme sat carefully, holding on to the arms of the chair. She would not fall in front of this heartless … in front of her mother.

  “Spit it out, girl, I have to work.”

  “Beto said that he and I are cousins. He said that you’re my mother.”

  “No. Adriana is your mother. She and Ernesto adopted you.”

  “Why … why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “Because I didn’t want you. And I’m sorry, but I still don’t! I was fifteen and pregnant. I only had two options, and Adriana had been married five years already. They only had Beto. They decided to help me by adopting you.” She pushed herself out of the chair and went to the window. Trying to heal sorrow or guilt she didn’t want Esme to see?

  Esmeralda wasn’t surprised though, when Tina turned back, her eyes dry and her face expressionless. “Look, I tried to get along with you when you came. I mean, a niece is family, but you’re not as clingy or annoying as I thought you’d be. We could have been friends—we can be friends. Just not family. I’m not a woman who wanted children all those years ago. And I’m still not.”

  “Once you said that Cody was the daughter you never had, remember? And all the time, you had me—”

  “You’d understand
if you ever met Cody.” Her aunt—her mother—turned back to look out at the imposing picture. “You should be grateful to me,” Tía continued, after a few minutes of silence. “You had a roof over your head and food on the table. Now you’ll have more money than you’ll know what to do with.” She went back to the window, turning partially toward the club, but still watching Esme with cold eyes. “The money you’ll get for showing Rafael Benton a good time is all yours. Someone made it very clear I wouldn’t see any of it. And that means our good friend Andy will be calling some folks in Chicago. Telling them I can’t pay—ever.” She smiled mirthlessly. “We might not see each other again. Goodbye, darling.”

  Esme made it downstairs on shaky legs and pride, but she knew she couldn’t drive.

  “Everything’s fine,” she lied to all the worried faces around her. “Rafael, could you drive me home? I’m a little light-headed.

  He didn’t answer, just put an arm around her shoulder and used the other to shield her from everyone else as he guided her outside. He buckled her in and hurried around to the driver’s side, but by the time she had climbed in, the tears had come and she didn’t try to stop them.

  He didn’t press her, just drove, sending occasional glances her way. Without a word, he helped her out as soon as they got there, and escorted her up to his room. He pressed her down on the bed, picked up the phone, asked about Justin, and said to call him if they needed him. Then he came back, sat down beside her, and wrapped his arms around her, rocking her as if she were a baby.

  “What in the world did Beto and Tía do?”

  She shook her head and turned enough that she could wrap her arms around his chest and cling to his strength. When she thought she could control herself enough to regain some dignity, she answered him. “She’s not my aunt.”

  He drew back a little, caught a corner of the sheet, and blotted her tears. “What do you mean? Aren’t she and your mom sisters? Stepsisters—is that it?”

  “No. She’s my mother. She had me at fifteen. She gave me up for adoption. She didn’t want me then, and she doesn’t want me now.”

  “Damn Beto!” He leaped to his feet. “Why would he tell you … you can’t believe him. He’s not right.”

  “He told me. And then …” She drew a shaky breath and met his eyes squarely. “And then Tina told me the same thing. She made it clear that I wasn’t Cody—the daughter she never had.”

  He collapsed beside her again, stunned. “I—I don’t know what to say. You don’t think it’s just—they’re both drunks.”

  “She wasn’t drunk. And it makes sense, really. My parents—I guess I should say my aunt and uncle—took care of me because they thought they had to. I’ve been an imposition all my damn life! And nobody but Toby ever really wanted me, either.”

  • • •

  I want you. But you wouldn’t believe me right now. Rafael buried his face in her hair, kissing her scalp, rocking her again, and eventually she went limp in his arms. He settled her on the bed, slipped off her heels, and covered her. Then he locked the door, took off his own shoes, and stretched out beside her to watch her.

  She slept restlessly, rolling and tossing and occasionally kicking him with a foot. He tried to move when she did so that he wouldn’t wake her up. He didn’t think he could bear to see her face so destroyed by the unexpected news.

  Anger percolated through him, the old, killing anger he’d only partially admitted to Esmeralda. He hadn’t wanted to frighten her. As hurt as she was, if she knew what he wished he could do to her brother and mother, she would be terrified. He’d have to remind her tomorrow, though, that Tía wasn’t her mother. She was merely a woman who’d brought a baby into the world and walked away—much like his own birth mother.

  He’d have to put it better than that. He’d hurt her if he made it sound as if she shouldn’t let the revelation disturb her. Yes, she’d seen the house he’d lived in, without parents. With friends who were there one day and then gone. She’d had a roof over her head, food, and protection. In some ways, only the labels for kinship had changed.

  He thought back to her angry words about Tía’s feelings for Cody. Dammit, how much evil could one person let go on an unsuspecting world? He’d almost lashed out at Esme, for blaming another of Tía’s victims. Almost.

  His phone vibrated on the bedside table, the light going on. Alarmed, he saw that the call was from his mother. He looked at the time and realized it was earlier than he thought. Not 10:00 P.M. yet.

  She had texted, and he knew he wouldn’t wake Esme if he answered. But when he read the actual message, he couldn’t believe she didn’t hear his yelp of dismay.

  “Honey, we’ll be home tomorrow. Someone sent us this. Congratulations!” Attached to the message was a picture. Their wedding picture.

  He propped himself on an elbow to look at Esme. She still slept soundly, but the pain had faded away. How could he expect her to be able to function tomorrow, when she was shattered? Then again, if anyone could, Esme Salinas could. Esme Salinas Benton, rather. With a slight smile he turned around and went back to sleep.

  • • •

  Esme stirred, feeling rested and uncomfortably warm. She was covered, she realized, surprised, and tossed the bedspread aside. She’d fallen asleep in her street clothes—a denim dress she often wore. Why hadn’t she changed? She rolled over, and bumped into the long, hard wall Rafael’s body formed. He cut the bed in half. She didn’t remember—and then she did. His comforting words. Rocking her to sleep. She just didn’t remember the part where he lay down beside her and drifted off.

  She slipped out of bed. Rafael continued sleeping, an arm thrown over his face, his cell phone near his hand. She retrieved the phone and put it on the night table, wondering if he usually slept with it. Then she removed her clothes and slid back under the covers.

  She was tired of the pain, tired of not having anyone. He hadn’t wanted a physical relationship. She needed one. At least for tonight. Tomorrow they could go back to their hands off relationship.

  “Rafael,” she whispered. He stirred, but didn’t wake. She inched closer, snuggled into him. He mumbled and moved a hand. She could see the shock when he woke, feeling her bare skin against his hand. He blinked and would have drawn away, but she shifted, pressing her knee against his legs, leaning forward to kiss him.

  “We weren’t going to do this,” he mumbled, and she shushed him by kissing him again. She trailed her fingers up his arms.

  “Don’t make me beg,” Esme whispered.

  “Never.” She caught the hem of his tee and began tugging it off. He maneuvered to help her. She started with his jeans, but he gently removed her hands. “We can’t,” he repeated. “You’re reacting to what happened—”

  “And you’re reacting to me,” she whispered, moving her hands over him, then replacing her roaming hands with her mouth. He moaned, but caught her hair and tugged her head up.

  “I don’t have protection. We agreed that if we knew we didn’t have it, we wouldn’t.”

  “I’m good,” she whispered, and lowered her head again. When he called her name hoarsely, she straddled him, crying out as she felt him inside her. Then they both began to move, urgency building until he pinned her hips and thrust higher and harder, and she threw her head back and moaned with her own climax. He pulled her back to him, wrapping her in his arms.

  “Esme?”

  “Hmm?”

  She could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re right. You are good.”

  She let her eyes drift shut, trying to remember when she’d said that. When she did, her heart thudded painfully and she went still. She had lied to him, implied that she was using protection when she wasn’t. She couldn’t think beyond giving in to the fire and burning away the pain.

  She pretended she’d fallen asleep. Manipulating him one more time, because she couldn’t bear to disappoint him. She loved him too much.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The smell of coffee woke her up. She t
urned to see Rafael there, looking apprehensive.

  “Time to get up, Esme.”

  “Why?” She turned a little and stretched, exposing herself as the sheets fell away.

  “Damn, don’t do that!” He grabbed the bedspread and flipped it over her again.

  Why didn’t he want…? Fear gripped her. Nobody wanted her. Had she driven Rafael away by disregarding his hands off policy?

  “Don’t think I wouldn’t like to, but we need to reevaluate the situation,” he said, sounding like a businessman more than a lover. Like a boss rather than a husband. “Esme, someone sent my parents our wedding photo. They’re in San Antonio on the way here—maybe half an hour away.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” But she was already out of bed, searching for a robe.

  “I’ll wait for you in the study,” he murmured, and walked away from her.

  • • •

  Chris and Alice Benton were nicer than she imagined two people could be, even when she’d heard they were special. They greeted everyone with hugs and kisses, and Mrs. Benton wouldn’t let Esmeralda go.

  “Don’t you dare call me Mrs. Anything,” she scolded. “You’re family, so you have a choice. You may call me Alice.”

  Rafael’s father shot his wife an amused look. “You only gave her one name, Alice,” he reminded her. “What’s the other choice?”

  “Well, on second thought, there’s no other choice.”

  Esme laughed and nodded. “I’ll call you Chris,” she said to his dad.

  Surprisingly, neither interrogated her. When they found out she was from Laredo, they commented on how much they liked her hometown. When he commented on the color of Esme’s hair, Chris touched his wife’s white hair and said, “Believe it or not, this was red, too.”

  The four of them crawled around the floor looking for Justin’s toys when he tossed them, and Chris made a huge fuss over Chief and Luc. “Haven’t seen ’em for what—two years?”

  “At least,” Rafael said easily. “Hard to believe I’ve been here in Truth that long already.

  “Well, boy, you’ve got a home in Houston when you want it.” He smiled at Esme. “You, too, Mrs. Benton,” he told her, his blue eyes dancing.